


Your Kiss is the Sweetest Gift

by sunshinexbomb



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Dumb boys being dumb, Fluff, Holidays, M/M, Mutual Pining, kissing under the mistletoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:29:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22074895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinexbomb/pseuds/sunshinexbomb
Summary: Nicky looks up, following where Sema’s gesturing toward, and sure enough, hanging from the rafters just above his and Mike’s head is a small arrangement of mistletoe.“Have to do it, Backy, or else we’ll lose Cup again,” Alex says sincerely. Nicky can’t tell if he’s just kidding.Mike turns towards Nicky, cocking his head to the side. “Well, how about it then, Nicky? For the Cup?” he asks.Nicky licks his lips nervously, gaze darting to Mike’s mouth for a second before coming back up to his dark eyes. “I mean, if it’s for the Cup-”--Or four times Nicky and Mike kiss under the mistletoe and one time they kiss without it.
Relationships: Nicklas Backstrom/Mike Green
Comments: 3
Kudos: 45





	Your Kiss is the Sweetest Gift

**Author's Note:**

> First fic of 2020 woohoo! A belated Happy Holidays and Happy New Years to everyone! I started this fic before Christmas 2018 and then for some reason didn't finish it, even though I was almost done???? BUT here it is now! Hope you enjoy :)
> 
> Thanks to Jay for the beta, all other mistakes are my own.

**one. (2007)**

Overnight, someone decorates the practice rink for the holiday season.

“Looks cheesy,” Nicky says, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the tacky cut-out snowflakes and brightly-colored paper chains. Nicky has no idea who has the time to do all this, but they really did not need to go this all out.

“Okay, Grinch,” Mike says, laughing and Nicky sticks his tongue out at him, immaturely. He’s starting to pick up bad habits from the Nylander children.

“It’s just too much,” Nicky grumbles.

They’re in the player’s lounge, lazing around. It’s an optional skate day, and Nicky’s already stretched and showered after his workout and he easily could’ve gone home with Michael nearly an hour ago. Mike had stayed behind to do some additional reps with Brooks, though, so Nicky had waited for him, and now they’re shacked up on one of the couches, watching Alex running around with a sprig of mistletoe, trying to get people to kiss him with varying degrees of success.

Nicky could still easily go home, but Mike’s arm is around his shoulder and they’re cuddled close together and he’s just so _warm _that Nicky doesn’t particularly want to get up quite yet.

“What Ovi’s doing right now? That’s too much,” Mike says right into Nicky’s ear. His breath is warm against Nicky’s neck, tickling, and it makes Nicky laugh softly. “The decorations are fine. It’s just holiday spirit.”

“They’re both too much,” Nicky insists, “but at least we can expect it from Ovi.”

Mike’s responding laugh catches Alex’s attention from across the room and he turns toward them, wolfish grin spreading across the face.

“Great, now you’ve done it,” Nicky says, hitting Mike in the chest as Alex makes his way towards them.

“You shouldn’t have made me laugh,” Mike says, still giggling hard enough that he’s caught off guard when Alex lays a smacking kiss against his cheek.

“Ugh, gross,” Mike says, wiping at his cheek with exaggeration as Alex cackles, “who taught you this mistletoe crap? I need to have a few words with them.”

“No one taught me, saw it on TV in Christmas movie,” Alex says. “Best way to show best center and kind of okay defenseman I love them.”

“You’re not kissing me,” Nicky says with a laugh, pushing back on Alex’s shoulders as he tries to plant himself on Nicky’s lap. Alex is bigger than him, though, and he pushes back, managing to at least get himself between Nicky and Mike on the couch, though not without some protest from Mike who growls, “What do you mean ‘kind of okay’?” as he tries to haul Alex off the couch.

“Have to kiss you, it’s bad luck if I don’t,” Alex says, elbowing back against Mike but ignoring his grumblings. “What if we lose Cup because I don’t kiss you under mistletoe?”

“If we lose the Cup that’s not gonna be why,” Nicky says, still fighting back against Alex. It’s looking to devolve into a full-out two-against-one wrestling match, until Alex gets his hands on either side of Nicky’s face, kissing him square on the mouth before Nicky and Mike push him onto the floor unceremoniously. 

“Not taking any chances,” Alex insists, picking himself off the floor and wiping off the seat of his pants. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Nicky says, wiping at his mouth with a laugh. His cheeks hurt from smiling so much, and Mike is leaning against his shoulder, laughing into it steadily.

“Maybe, but when we win Cup, you can thank me,” Alex says with a wink before strutting off to find his next target, mistletoe in hand.

“He left a little behind,” Mike says when he’s calmed down his giggles a bit.

“What’s that?” Nicky asks, looking down at him.

Mike’s got a hand lying face up on Nicky’s thigh, and in his open hand is a small bit of mistletoe, obviously broken off during their tussle from the sprig Alex had. “Does this mean we have to kiss too?” Mike asks, laying the mistletoe on the top of the couch between them. 

Nicky can feel his face turn hot. “Oh, um, maybe,” he stutters, because the idea of Mike kissing him, even if it’s just because of a stupid tradition, is different than the idea of Alex kissing him.

Nicky hasn’t spent the last couple months wanting to kiss Alex at inopportune moments of the day - in between goal celebrations, late at night in hotel rooms during road trips, after good games and bad games and every game in the locker room. But he’s maybe had a couple of thoughts like that about Mike.

“We should, you know, for luck,” Mike says, his eyes darting down to Nicky’s mouth and Nicky nods, mouth dry.

“Yeah, of course.”

Mike kisses him, and it’s just a dry plant of his lips to the corner of Nicky’s mouth. It’s over in a second and it’s still enough to make Nicky’s heart race in his chest.

Mike’s face is a bit pink when he pulls away and he ducks his head shyly before settling into Nicky’s side again.

\--

**two. (2009)**

Their last game before the holidays is a win against Buffalo on home ice, Nicky ending the the night with two goals that leaves him riding a high of adrenaline and pride as they stumble off the ice and into the locker room. The team is playing good, more than good, at the top of their division and just a point away from leading the entire league. 

Nicky doesn’t want to get ahead of himself, doesn’t want to think _this is our year_, when there’s so much of the season left, but on a night where he and Mike and Alex and Sema wrack up nearly ten points between them, it’s hard not to think about ending the season late in June with a Cup in his hands.

“O says we should all go out for drinks tonight,” Mike says, sidling up behind Nicky when the press has cleared out of the locker room. Mike’s still half in his gear and smells disgusting and Nicky wants nothing but to turn his head and press a kiss against Mike’s mouth.

“Yeah, definitely, that sounds good,” Nicky says, trying to hold back a shiver at the graze of Mike’s fingertips against his lower back. 

Nicky doesn’t want this night to end, doesn’t want to stop riding the high of the win, doesn’t want to leave Mike and the warmth of his body as it presses against Nicky’s side.

“Great, I’ll drive us, if you want?” Mike offers and Nicky nods.

“Okay, see you in a few,” Nicky says waiting until Mike’s gone back to his stall to strip out of the rest of his gear and slip into the showers.

\--

The bar is noisy and crowded. 

It’s the younger guys, mostly, who join them, the vets opting to go home and get an early start on the holidays with their families.

Alex huddles them all into one booth, Nicky sandwiched between Mike and Brooks on either side of him until Brooks gets tired of being pushed out of his seat and leaves to join Alzy and Fehrsie at one of the high-top tables. Nicky doesn’t protest Brooks’ absence, but he hadn’t been complaining either at being pushed halfway into Mike’s lap to make room for him.

Alex buys a shot for everyone on the team in celebration, him and Sema downing it easily while Nicky has to cough through the burn in his throat to get it down. Nicky has no idea what it is, but it leaves an almost medicinal aftertaste in his mouth and makes heat crawl up his neck and face immediately.

“That’s disgusting,” Mike splutters, eyes screwed up in distaste and Sema cackles at him.

“It’s fine, drink more and you won’t notice taste,” he says and Nicky doesn’t doubt that; he’s pretty sure half his taste buds have gone numb.

“I’ll stick with beer the rest of the night,” Mike says, leaning back against the booth. Nicky throws an arm around Mike’s shoulders, and Mike immediately settles against him.

It’s a good night, everyone in high spirits from the win and a much needed couple of days off for the holidays. Alex keeps buying shots and drinks and even Mike keeps accepting them despite his initial protests. The alcohol settles warm in Nicky’s stomach and makes him pink-faced and giggly. 

Alex and Sema are telling a story loudly and Nicky’s having a hard time following because he thinks half of it might be in Russian. He’s pretty sure Mike isn’t following either, but he’s laughing into the crook of Nicky’s neck, soft giggles that Nicky feels just as well as he hears.

When Mike lifts his face up, it’s incredibly close to Nicky’s, and Nicky swallows thickly. Nicky’s suddenly very aware of how thick and dark Mike’s eyelashes are and how high up Nicky’s thigh Mike’s hand has been resting for a while now.

“You know, you played really good tonight,” Mike says, and his voice is soft and syrupy thick. His words are only for Nicky.

“Thanks, you too,” Nicky whispers back, and when he places his hand on top of Mike’s, Mike doesn’t move it.

“I like when you shoot the puck,” Mike says and it makes Nicky laugh. “You have a good shot and - and soft hands. Good hands. It’s kind of sexy.”

“My hands or my shot?” Nicky asks, his face burning hot from more than just the alcohol.

“Mmm, both,” Mike says, and he settles his head against Nicky’s shoulder again. It tickles when Mike’s nose brushes against Nicky’s neck.

“Hey, you guys gonna listen to rest of story or just cuddle?” Alex asks from across from them, kicking Nicky lightly under the table.

“Cuddle,” Mike says, voice a little muffled because his face is still buried in Nicky’s shoulder. “I have no idea what your story is even about.”

“Then can’t just sit and cuddle, have to kiss too,” Sema says, and Mike’s head comes up so fast that the top of it bumps painfully against Nicky’s chin.

“What?” Mike asks, voice a little high. “You want us to put on a show for you, Sema?” he jokes, but it comes out weakly.

“No, perv,” Sema says, rolling his eyes. “Mistletoe. Been there all night and you didn’t notice. But if you’re gonna be cuddling anyway-”

Nicky looks up, following where Sema’s gesturing toward, and sure enough, hanging from the rafters just above his and Mike’s head is a small arrangement of mistletoe.

“Have to do it, Backy, or else we’ll lose Cup again,” Alex says sincerely. Nicky can’t tell if he’s just kidding.

“We didn’t lose the Cup last year because of superstition,” Nicky says flatly and Alex shrugs.

“Can’t be too sure. Brooksy didn’t kiss me and we lose Cup. I think it’s better to be on safe side,” Alex says.

“Are you saying it’s Brooks’ fault we lost the Cup?” Mike asks and Alex’s returning grin is sly enough that Nicky can be sure he’s just pulling their leg. Mike still turns towards Nicky, though, cocking his head to the side. “Well, how about it then, Nicky? For the Cup?” he asks.

Nicky licks his lips nervously, gaze darting to Mike’s mouth for a second before coming back up to his dark eyes. “I mean, if it’s for the Cup-”

Mike leans forward and kisses him. It’s different from last time. The kiss is still chaste and dry, but Mike envelopes Nicky’s mouth fully, one hand still on his thigh and the other coming up to cup Nicky’s face. It’s easy to sink into Mike, to let the noise of the bar fall away until he can hear nothing but the erratic drumming of his own heart beating rapidly in his own ears. Mike’s kissing him, a real kiss, and fuck, Nicky never wants it to stop.

The spell’s broken by Alex wolf-whistling loudly and Nicky jumps back in surprise. He’d almost forgotten there were other people in the room.

His face is hot and when he looks at Mike, his skin is patchy pink underneath his light stubble. Mike’s avoiding Nicky’s eye, but his hand hasn’t left Nicky’s leg.

“I think you make sure we have good chance at Cup this year,” Alex says, his biggest shit-eating grin spread across his face. Sema’s smile mirrors Alex’s exactly.

“Anything for the Cup,” Nicky says and he’s glad when Mike laughs, closing the small gap between them again when he throws his arm over Nicky’s shoulders. 

\--

**three. (2012)**

Nicky and Mike get sent home at the same time.

It’s quiet on the plane, neither one of them in the mood to talk. Nicky’s head is swimming, but he can’t sleep, too jittery and irritated. Mike’s wide awake also. There’s a book open in his lap, but Nicky hasn’t seen him turn the page once since they took off.

Mike’s missed nearly a whole season worth of games already, but at least he knows that he’ll be back on the ice before February rolls into March. Nicky can only hope that he won’t miss more than a few games and pray that he’s not ending his season before the All-Star break. 

They’re nearly back in DC before Mike breaks the silence. 

“This sucks,” he says, voice small and reedy. 

Nicky could easily take Mike’s hand - it’s right there, lying on their shared armrest - but Nicky keeps his hands folded in his lap. He’s exhausted, and he doesn’t think he has it in him to provide the kind of comfort Mike’s looking for. 

Instead he just says, “I know,” and closes his eyes as the plane’s slow descent makes his stomach roll. 

\--

Mike’s surgery goes well and it doesn’t take long for him to start rehab.

Nicky skates for five minutes one morning before returning to the locker room, finding a trainer, and vomiting before he can make it to the toilets. 

Being at the rink and not being able to skate or work out is hard. For the most part, Nicky stays home and he considers it a success if he can get out of bed without throwing up or getting dizzy.

He sees the team some times, but that’s hard too. There’s stretches of days when he doesn’t talk to anyone, not Alex or Troy or John or anyone. Not even Mike.

Nicky is lonely and angry and frustrated and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

\--

Mike makes good progress through his rehab and gets back on the ice in a no-contact jersey.

Nicky tries to push back the ugly jealousy that’s rolling in his stomach.

\--

Super Bowl Sunday, Nicky still hosts the team at his house like always. 

Nicky’s having one of his better days. His house is loud and full of people and he only has to escape to the kitchen twice for a bit of quiet when things feel like too much. 

During the game, Nicky sits on the couch sandwiched between Alex and Troy the whole night. Alex has his arm around Nicky’s shoulders, which is kind of nice after Nicky’s been isolating himself for so long. It’s not the same as when it’s Mike pressed against his side, but it’s still nice.

There are days when Nicky misses Mike as much as he misses skating.

There are other days when Nicky can barely look at Mike when he remembers that Mike will be back playing games in a short couple of weeks.

This night is the latter.

During the half-time show, Nicky slips off for a moment of silence in the kitchen. He’s not dizzy, but his head is pounding, and it helps to be away from the noise and the heat of everyone’s bodies crammed into the basement in front of the TV. 

Nicky sits at the island counter for a bit, the heel of his palms pressing into his eyes, trying to relieve the pressure there. It’s not helping much, but it’s distracting enough that he doesn’t notice that he has company.

“Nicky?”

Nicky startles, tensing when he realizes it’s Mike standing awkwardly at the doorway like he’s not sure whether or not he can come in. 

“Are you okay?” Mike asks when Nicky doesn’t reply.

“I’m fine,” Nicky says, and he can’t keep the edge of irritation out of his voice. “Go back downstairs, Mike, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Are you sure-?”

“I’m _fine_,” Nicky snaps and Mike actually takes a step back, like he’s been stung. The concern melts off Mike’s face, his expression turning blank and neutral. Nicky didn’t realize that’d be worse than the worry.

“Okay - I - okay,” Mike says, turning around, leaving Nicky alone again.

Nicky’s stomach twists in knots. He lets his head rest on the cool granite countertop and tries not to let guilt consume him. It’s not Mike’s fault that he’s getting healthy and Nicky’s not. It’s not Mike’s fault that he can skate and play and practice and Nicky can’t. Nicky knows he shouldn’t take it out on Mike, but he doesn’t know what else he can take it out on instead.

\--

Nicky visits the rink the day Mike’s cleared for full-contact practice. He watches from the stands as Alex makes Mike lead the morning stretch, but only makes it through the first couple of drills before his headache forces him back to the locker room. 

He still can’t work out, but he gives updates to their trainer and they draw up a schedule together to ease him back into a few things when he’s having good days. There’s still no telling when Nicky will be back fully, but it feels good to have a plan - it reminds him that the concussion won’t be forever.

Most of the team is filtering back into the locker room by the time Nicky is finished up with the trainers. The room fills with sound quickly, but it’s comforting to be back in the middle of the chaos and the familiar banter as guys chirp each other and laugh and talk and argue.

Nicky sits at his stall, a couple people coming over to talk to him and see how he’s doing. Troy’s on his other side, telling him about some new drill that Hunter had them running that they had to kept having to repeat because Sema just couldn’t catch on to it.

“We miss you on the ice,” Troy says, “it’s good to have Greenie back finally, but we play better when you’re there too.” 

“I wish I was back also,” Nicky says honestly. “Hopefully it won’t be much longer.”

“Maybe once you’re back you can keep dumb and dumber over there out of the penalty box for a couple games,” Troy says, nodding his head towards where Alex and Sema are standing near Alex’s stall. They’re not doing anything, but their heads are pressed together over something and speaking quietly in Russian which is reason enough for suspicion. Nicky suspects someone’s going to find their gloves full of shaving cream sometime soon.

Nicky snorts out a laugh, shaking his head. “You already know Sema’s going to do whatever the hell he wants - I can’t stop him. Same with Ovi. I’m not going to be much help.”

“Well, either way, we miss you,” Troy says with a small smile. He claps Nicky on the thigh before getting up, towel slung across his shoulders. “Feel better soon, Backy. We need you out there.”

He heads out to the showers, leaving Nicky alone in his stall. Nicky gets up, popping the muscles in his back and shoulders that have stiffened from sitting around too long. The locker room is clearing out others also head off to the showers, and Nicky supposes it’s time for him to make his escape. He’s more than ready to go home and maybe take a nap, but before he can leave, he’s stopped by a hand on his shoulder that makes him startle.

“Woah, it’s just me,” Mike says, putting his hands up in defense when Nicky turns around with a steely glare.

“You scared the shit out of me,” Nicky grumbles, grabbing his bag and hoisting it onto his shoulder. “What is it?” Nicky sounds like a bitch and he knows it, but he can’t seem to reel it in either.

Mike glares, crossing his arms over his chest, and Nicky has to actively not think about how it adds definition to Mike’s biceps. “Did I do something to you? Why have you been so pissy with me lately?” he asks, voice hard.

“Sorry that I haven’t been in the best mood after getting fucking concussed,” Nicky hisses, his face turning warm. “It hasn’t been a great month for me, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Oh don’t give me that bullshit,” Mike says, actually rolling his eyes. “You haven’t been a dick to anyone else but me. You’ve barely talked to me, you won’t even _look _at me sometimes. If I did anything to piss you off, I think I have the right to know what it was.”

“I’m not mad at you,” Nicky says, pushing past him, trying to get out the door. “I gotta go home, Mike - I’m not feeling well.”

“Nicky-” Mike grabs his wrist, and Nicky turns around so quickly it makes him dizzy. His vision goes blurry and he stumbles for a second before Mike catches him, steading him on his feet. “Shit, are you okay?”

“I haven’t been okay for the past month,” Nicky says. His head is still swimming a little and he sits down on the closest bench, holding his head in his hands as he waits for it to pass.

Mike sighs and Nicky feels him sit next to him on the bench. Nicky wants to sink into Mike’s side, to put his head on Mike’s shoulder, and maybe to cry a little bit into Mike’s neck because his head hurts and he’s so fucking sick and tired of feeling this way every day. Instead he just sits, his shoulder pressed into Mike’s, and leaves his head cradled in his hands.

“Nicky, let me shower and drive you home, please. And maybe we can talk and you can tell me what’s been bothering you? I know it’s not just the concussion and I just - I miss you and I want to know you’re alright. Please?”

“Okay,” Nicky says quietly and Mike pats him on the leg like Troy had earlier, before leaving Nicky alone again on the bench.

\--

They’re quiet on the drive back to Nicky’s, Nicky spending most of it with his head pressed against the cool glass window of Mike’s car and trying not keep his nausea at bay. Mike keeps the radio off, which Nicky appreciates, and he doesn’t say anything until Nicky’s letting them inside.

Mike toes his shoes off in the front hall, lining them up with the pairs Nicky has lying out, and follows Nicky into the living room where Nicky immediately collapses onto the couch. He tilts his head back, closing his eyes again.

“I’m gonna make you some tea,” Mike says and Nicky opens his eyes to see Mike already heading towards the kitchen.

“You don’t have to do that,” Nicky says weakly even though nothing sounds better right now.

“It’s fine,” Mike calls out.

Nicky can hear Mike puttering around in the kitchen and he’s back in a few minutes, carrying Nicky’s favorite blue mug. The tea is strong and hot and perfect and it makes Nicky’s chest constrict a little that Mike knows exactly how he likes it and which mug to use and how to get around his kitchen easily enough to make it without fuss.

“Thanks,” Nicky says, the heat from the mug soothing between his palms.

“It’s no problem,” Mike says. He takes a seat on the couch, but leaves distance between them that Nicky doesn’t like.

They sit in silence, Nicky tipping back his head and closing his eyes as he lets the heat from his mug warm his clammy hands. The throbbing in his head is always ebbing and flowing, and it feels like it’s starting to settle a little now that he’s back home where everything is dark and quiet and familiar.

Nicky’s the one who breaks the silence finally, his eyes still shut so he doesn’t have to look at Mike. “You’re going to think I’m stupid when I tell you why I’m mad. Or think I’m a dick,” he says.

“Good thing I already know you’re both of those things,” Mike says not quite biting and not quite teasing. Nicky recognizes the tone of Mike’s voice, knows it’s a signal for Nicky to keep talking.

Nicky sits up before responding, turning to face Mike finally. It’s the first time in a while that Nicky’s really _looked_ at him, and he’s a bit surprised at how tired Mike seems, the lines on his face deep and the circles beneath his eyes dark. 

“I hate that I can’t play yet,” Nicky says, hand not holding onto his mug clenching into a fist where it rests on his leg.

Mike looks confused, corners of his mouth dipping in a frown. “What does that have to do with me?”

“I hate that I can’t play and you can,” Nicky clarifies, digging his fingernails into his palms. Even to his own ears he sounds childish and petulant.

There’s a beat of silence where all Mike does is frown harder and then he says, “Wow, you are stupid. And a dick.”

Nicky lets out a laugh that has no humor behind it. He presses his fingertips against his eyes, rubbing them. “I know, I know. I’m just - so fucking frustrated.”

“It’s not a competition, Nick,” Mike says. “You think I haven’t been miserable and frustrated too? That every day of this recovery hasn’t been hell?”

“Mike, I _know,_” Nicky says, trying not to snap because Mike’s got a right to be mad at him. “It’s just, I don’t even know when I’ll be back. It might not even be this season and that - it really fucking sucks. And maybe I was taking my anger out in the wrong place, but I couldn’t help it, knowing that this happened to us at the same time and you’re already back on your feet while I just feel - stuck.”

“You’re going to get better, Nicky. Even if it’s not this season, that’s okay. You need to take your time, and when you’re ready, we’ll be back to tearing up the ice together,” Mike says a little softer than before. “And I’m not saying that I can like, make things go faster, but maybe all this shittiness can feel less shitty if you’re not pushing me away.”

“I’m sorry for being an asshole,” Nicky says and Mike shrugs. 

“I really don’t think I was a pleasure to be around during recovery either, so.”

“At least you didn’t shut me out for no real reason,” Nicky says and Mike shrugs again.

“Yeah, but, I get it, I guess. I felt like that too, sometimes - stuck that is. After last season, having to go through it again was fucking awful. But I’m back now and you will be too. There’s no use focusing on the bad stuff and getting lost in it.”

“When did you get so wise?” Nicky asks with a small smile and Mike laughs.

“I’m not just a pretty face,” Mike says.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Mike flips him off, but his smile gives away his real feelings. It’s not an acceptance of Nicky’s apology exactly, but it’s something, and considering how Nicky’s been acting, he’s willing to take what he can get.

\--

Mike stays for a while longer, making Nicky dinner. He swears it’s not a sign of forgiveness and that he’s only doing it because unlike Nicky, he’s not a dick. But when they’re sitting in the kitchen together, laughing and talking like nothing’s happened, Nicky feels lighter than he has in ages. 

They stay up just a little longer than either of them should, and Nicky walks Mike to the door as he’s leaving.

“I’m sorry again,” Nicky says as Mike’s pulling on his coat.

Mike rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I know, you big idiot.”

Nicky opens the door and Mike pauses for a second, mouth curling up in amusement. “You get lazy about your Christmas decorations last year, Nick? Or are you getting a head-start for this year?”

Nicky’s forehead creases in his confusion until he looks up, following Mike’s gaze. Above the door is a sprig of plastic mistletoe that Nicky is positive he didn’t put up himself.

“What the fuck?” Nicky mumbles, making Mike laugh.

Mike steps in close to Nicky, and Nicky tries to keep his breath from catching when Mike cups his cheek. “You know, I think both of us could use all the good luck we can get considering how this season’s been going.”

“Um, I think you’re right,” Nicky says, heat rising to his face.

When Mike kisses him, it’s soft but quick, just a slight brush of his mouth against Nicky’s. It’s enough, though, to send warmth through Nicky’s bones, lighting him up in a way nothing has in ages. 

“Hopefully that’ll hold us through to the end of the season,” Mike says, pad of his thumb brushing against the curve of Nicky’s cheeks for just a second before he brings his hand back down to his side.

Nicky can’t seem to wipe the soft smile off his face when Mike leaves, thinking that, just maybe, he’s been forgiven.

\--

**four. (2014)**

With the Winter Classic right around the corner, spirits are high when Alex hosts the team at his place for the holidays. The atmosphere is relaxed and cozy, with a fire blazing in the living room and Christmas music tinkling from Alex’s fancy sound system.

Gone are the days that a gathering at Alex’s means a crazy rager that leaves Nicky feeling worse for wear in the morning. Now that so many of the guys on the team are settling down, getting married, having kids, things are changing.

“Papa, Papa, hey, take this shot.”

Well, maybe not everything is changing.

Nicky eyes the blue concoction in Latts’ hand dubiously. Behind Latts, Wilso and Burky stand with matching, mischievous grins. It only heightens Nicky’s suspicion.

“What is it?” he asks, taking it. It smells fine, fruity mostly.

“We call it the Broberry,” Burky says, grin widening. 

Nicky scans the room, seeing if there’s anyone or anything around that will offer him an out from making a terrible mistake. Everyone’s engaged for the most part, playing with their kids or chatting with others on the team.

The only one who catches Nicky’s eye is Mike who raises an eyebrow at him. Nicky tries to signal for Mike to come over without any words, but it must not work because Mike just mimes taking the shot and then rubs his belly afterwards like he’d just had something delicious and satisfying.

Nicky trusts him less than he trusts the three idiots standing in front of him.

“C’mon, Papa, don’t be a wuss,” Wilso says and Nicky sighs deeply.

He’s had a couple of drinks already, not too many, but just enough that his judgement is probably a bit clouded when he says, “Cheers,” flatly and takes the shot.

The regret is instant.

The drink burns in his throat and nose as he coughs it down. It tastes like blueberry hard candy mixed with rubbing alcohol that’s been sitting in the medicine cabinet for too long, and it is absolutely the worst thing Nicky’s ever had.

“I can’t believe you let me do that,” Nicky says hoarsely to Mike who’s walking towards them now with a wide smile on his face.

“Only because they got me with it earlier,” Mike says, passing a cup to Nicky which thankfully is full of water.

Latts and Wilso are dissolving into full belly laughs as they follow Burky who’s already hunting down a new victim to try their shot from hell. 

“I’m getting too old for this shit,” Nicky says after he’s chugged his water and tossed the cup into the nearest bin.

“You love this shit,” Mike says.

“Absolutely not,” he insists as he follows Mike into the next room, taking a seat next to him on one of Alex’s large cushy couches. It’s quieter in this room, _Home Alone_ playing on the large TV softly and keeping the attention of both some of the older kids and their parents. 

Truth is, Nicky does love it. He loves playing team dad to guys who have become his family and he loves the city that’s become his second home.

He loves that he always has Mike beside him, on the ice, in the locker room, during team dinners and long flights and on the couch next to him at this moment, the same steady, grounding force that he’s been for all the years they’ve been playing together.

Mike throws his arm around Nicky’s waist, and Nicky sinks into him easily. He wonders if the loose, easy warmth he’s feeling is from the drinks he’s had throughout the night or just from being near Mike.

“I’m gonna miss all of this next season,” Mike says and Nicky’s stomach tightens with knots.

“Don’t know why, since you’ll still be around,” Nicky says even though both of them know it’s probably not true.

“Nick,” Mike says warily.

Nicky wishes he could pretend that things won’t change and the team will stay as it is. He he wishes he could pretend that Mike will still be here and Troy will still be here and that’ll they’ll all just play together until they’re forty and then retire together and watch Ovi play until he’s sixty and then be there when he retires too.

But he’s always been too much of a realist. He knows that he can pretend as much as he wants, but that, eventually, his family will change around him, and that one day, he might have to leave himself.

That doesn’t mean he has to like it, though.

“There’s just a lot we haven’t done yet,” Nicky says after a moment’s pause, trying to pick his words carefully. He resists the urge to just bury his face in Mike’s neck instead of having any part in this discussion. “We haven’t won a Cup yet, I haven’t -”

Nicky stops, the words _I haven’t told you how I feel about you yet _stuck on the tip of his tongue.

“We don’t have to talk about this right now,” Mike says when Nicky doesn’t continue. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up. Let’s - I’m here right now. Let’s just enjoy this night.”

“Right,” Nicky agrees. “I’m sorry, too. It’s probably just the drinks making me all sentimental.”

“It’s fine,” Mike says with a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and he tightens his grip around Nicky’s waist.

Nicky tips his head against Mike’s shoulder, a gesture that’s intimate but familiar enough that no one around them even blinks an eye.

\--

The party wraps up early for the most part, the guys with kids heading back home so they’re not staying up too late. Nicky and Mike are among the stragglers, helping Alex do some light cleaning and, in Nicky’s case, helping him round up the younger guys and stashing them in a guest bedroom because they’re too drunk to drive home. 

“How many of those disgusting shots did you have?” Nicky grunts, supporting most of Burky’s weight as he leads them further into Alex’s house.

“Too many,” Burky groans in Swedish. “Nicke, I’m never drinking again.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Nicky says, rolling his eyes.

Alex has plenty of empty rooms around his place, but Nicky shoves Burky into the same room where Wilso and Latts are already passed out and snoring. It’s their fault they couldn’t figure out a designated driver, so they can deal with sharing a bed for the night.

Nicky closes the door behind him before heading down to the kitchen where Mike is rinsing out a couple of empties and tossing them in the recycling. He smiles as Nicky comes in, the look soft and sweet enough that it makes Nicky’s stomach flip. 

“Are the kids all tucked in?” Mike asks teasingly. 

Nicky rolls his eyes, leaning against the counter by the sink. “They’re all in bed. Wouldn’t necessarily call it ‘tucked in’.”

Mike throws away the last couple of bottles, and his grin grows a bit wider as he comes to rest by Nicky’s side. 

“You know, we always seem to find each other in this situation,” Mike says and Nicky raises an eyebrow at him. 

“What? Cleaning up Alex’s messes?” he asks dryly, but Mike shakes his head. 

Nicky follows Mike’s gaze and - of course. Fucking mistletoe. 

“I swear that stuff follows me around,” Nicky mumbles and Mike laughs softly. 

They’re standing close enough already that Nicky can see the extremely light dusting of freckles across the bridge of Mike’s nose. Nicky’s breath catches a bit as Mike moves even closer, cupping Nicky’s face in his palm before closing the gap all the way. 

This kiss is different - it’s deep and it’s _real, _with Mike looping an arm around Nicky's waist to fill him in so he’s flush against Mike. Mike’s mouth is soft but insistent and Nicky can feel heat everywhere from the top of his ears down to his toes. 

When they part, both of them are breathing heavily, and Mike’s mouth is pink and wet and all Nicky want is to kiss him again. 

“That was - um - wow -“ Nicky says a bit breathlessly. 

“I was thinking about what you said earlier,” Mike says, swiping his thumb softly across the curve of Nicky’s cheekbone, “about things we have done. Nicky, I don’t think I’d be able to live with myself if I ended up leaving DC without telling you how I feel. How I’ve probably been in love with you since the first time we stepped on the ice together.”

Nicky can feel his face flushing with heat and he can’t help the way his mouth curves into a smile before he kisses Mike again, just a bit softer this time. 

“I don’t think I would’ve let you leave before we got to do this,” Nicky says honestly. 

“We’re kind of stupid, huh?” Mike says with a small laugh. “Imagine all the time we could’ve had together.”

“No use thinking about that,” Nicky says. “Just need to enjoy the time we have.” 

There’s a part of Nicky that’s maybe always known that at the end, it’d be Mike. It’s almost silly, that it’s taken them this long to get here, just when their future looks most uncertain. Yet, Mike’s just kissed Nicky in a way that makes his head swim, just told Nicky that he loves him, and it’s enough to make thoughts of contracts and extensions seem like they don’t matter.

Nicky lets Mike pull him in again, and lets himself kiss Mike the way he’s always wanted to. 

**+one (2016)**

Mike finds himself playing his last game of the year sooner than expected because of a late hit by Kesler that takes him out not just for a night, but for the rest of the road trip. Once it becomes clear that Mike won’t be able to play before the holiday break, he gets put on a red-eye, but instead of taking it to Detroit, he makes his way to DC a bit earlier than planned. 

He doesn’t call Nicky before getting on the plane. Nicky knows about the hit - he made it very clear what he thought about Kesler during a long-winded rant of a phone call the night it happened - but he has no idea that Mike’s on his way home. 

Mike knows that Nicky’s not a huge fan of surprises, but he thinks Nicky will be willing to forgive him just this once.

\--

Sure enough, when Nicky opens the door to their McLean home, he’s wide-eyed in surprise, but the surprise melts quickly into a large smile that forces the corners of his eyes to crinkle in delight.

“You’re supposed to be in Florida,” Nicky says, stepping aside to let Mike in.

Mike drops his bags in front of the door so he can wrap his arms around Nicky instead, pulling him close. It’s been way too long since they last saw each other, way too long since Mike’s last been home.

“Yet, I’m here,” he says, kissing the corner of Nicky’s mouth.

“If you’re not playing it means you’re injured,” Nicky says, his smile dipping into a small frown.

“I’m fine - just banged up,” Mike says, which is true enough. It’s not serious, but at this point in the season, it’s better to be safe than sorry later.

Nicky grabs Mike’s bags from the floor, leading them further into the house. It’s decorated for the holidays already, not extravagantly, of course, but enough to be a reminder that Christmas is just around the corner.

“Kesler will be lucky if I don’t punch his lights out the next time I see him,” Nicky grumbles as they make their way up the stairs and Mike laughs loudly.

“We both know that won’t happen,” Mike says. Nicky makes a low, petulant sound in the back of his throat.

“Okay, fine, it won’t. But maybe I can get Tom to punch him instead,” Nicky says.

“Sure, babe,” Mike says with a small laugh.

He flops down on their bed as soon as they’re inside they’re room, Nicky dropping Mike’s bags at the door before he crawls in next to Mike.

They don’t waste any time. Nicky kisses him as soon as they’re side by side. The kiss is rough, needy, and Mike immediately feels heat pool in his belly when Nicky pushes on Mike’s shoulder to get him to lie on his back.

Mike’s missed this so much, the taste of Nicky’s mouth, the feel of his hot skin against Mike’s hands, his solid and familiar weight in Mike’s lap. He curls his fingers in Nicky’s hair. It’s gotten longer since they last saw each other, closer to the length that Mike likes it at best. 

“I’ve missed you,” Mike says even though he knows he doesn’t need to, even though he’s sure that Nicky already knows.

“Me too, but you’re home now,” Nicky says before kissing him again.

One day, Mike will be back home for good. He’ll come back to this beautiful home, to Nicky, and to the city that he never wanted to leave. There will be no more hockey, but there will be something just as exciting and exhilarating to look forward to as he starts the rest of his life.

Mike doesn’t know when that’ll be, maybe in a couple years, maybe even further along than that. For now, though, he has Nicky on top of him, Nicky’s mouth hot against his, and he knows he has _Nicky_, every single piece of him, and that is more than he could ever ask for.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and Kudos are always appreciated it. I am tjoshov on both tumblr and twitter if you want to come yell at me about how much you love Nicky, Greenie, the Caps, or dumb fluffy holiday fics.


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